#bc it goes by pen stroke/action and not by time bc i took breaks while doing this

[houseofdemi-blog]

Playing with Fire - 07

Summary: After breaking up with you, you decide the only way to get back at your -now ex-boyfriend and avoid public humilliation is by making a deal with resident bad boy Min Yoongi: you’ll give him money as long as he pretends to be your new boy.

Genre: Romance.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: Mature (fluff + light smut + angst)

Length: 2.8k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -  Part 7 -  Part 8 [Finale]

A/N: so this took me longer bc i havent been in the best mental state lately and i was super tired and sad and uninspired lmao anyways life goes on and so will this goddamn story. thx for all of the lovely messages though you guys are the sweetest :(

You didn't know exactly how it happened.

You had arrived at yet another one of Kibum's parties, much to both your and Yoongi's discomfort. You stayed in a corner gripping his hand tightly and trying to make time go faster by drinking from a red plastic cup. The more you frequented social events full of your group of friends, the more you wished you had stayed in Yoongi's apartment doing absolutely nothing. 

The more Yoongi pulled you closer to his body, the more he toyed with the hem of your skirt unnoticed while you kept speaking to Wendy. And the more Yoongi mumbled in your ear how desperate he was to get you alone and dig his teeth in the flesh of your thighs, the more you wished to leave right away and let him have his way with you however he wanted.

You had only teasingly smirked at his words and whispered back into his hear to hold on for a little longer, adding that you might “suck your dick as soon as we get in your car”. To which he excused himself in front of Wendy and Yuju by saying he needed to go to the bathroom before smacking your ass playfully you watched him disappear between the crowd, probably to fix the little tent already beginning to appear under the fabric of his jeans. 

You went back to conversate with your girlfriends, who raised their eyebrows and shoot knowing smiles at you.

And then, only mere minutes after that, the music stopped and you heard a few shouts and high pitched screams and a crashing sound in the distance.

After exchanging confused looks with Wendy and Yuju, you approached the small crowd forming in the center of Kibum's kitchen. Not being surprised in the lightest bit by the fact that a Saturday night party would end with two randomly drunk teenage boys punching each other, you were about to turn away unbothered until you recognized the too familiar bodies catching everyone's attention.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, trying to make your way in between the mass of people surrounding your boyfriend. Yes, your boyfriend, who was currently holding your ex boyfriend by the neck of his now wrinkly white button up shirt. Your voice immediately stopped his actions and he looked at you with a fist mid air and a string of red sprouting from his lower lip. It was Kibum who stepped between them, making Yoongi hesitatingly letting go of Minho. “What the hell is going on?” You scanned Yoongi's eyes for an answer, which he didn't provide you with, only fixing his jacket.

“Get your broke savage of a boyfriend the fuck away from me!” Minho's said through heavy breathing, sporting the beginning of a purple bruise on his right eye.

You shot him a death glare, keeping yourself from breaking another part of his face, and took Yoongi by the arm while he wiped his lip with the back of his hand.

“Don't you dare showing up again to my house with that piece of shit, _____.” Kibum threathened, eyeing the blonde next to you up and down with a disgusting expression on his face.

You rolled your eyes and made your way through the door, dragging your boyfriend behind you without looking back.“As if I would want to.”

“Fuck, be careful, _____. It burns.” ignoring his words, you dabbed his lower lip with the alcohol infused cotton ball and Yoongi winced again

“Serves you right for starting up a fight.” you mumbled.

“God, I already told you, I didn't start anything!”

“Then why the fuck did you deck him on the face?”

“Because he's a fucking asshole!”

“Yeah, everybody knows that, but you don't go up to someone and punch them for no reason at all, Yoongi.” you stood up frustrated, running your hands through your hair as you placed the small first aid kit back on Yoongi's bathroom shelf. You were surprised he even had one when you had arrived to his apartment almost half an hour ago. “So you better tell me what he said or did for you to react that way.” 

You turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and facing him again. He was sitting down on the toiled seat and he had discarded his jacket as soon as he got home. His lips were plump and even rosier than they usually were and his messy hair fell into his eyes as he looked down to his redden knuckles resting on his lap. 

You resisted the urge to approach him and kissing each of his fingers because, as mad as you were at him, you had been eager to feel his body against yours the moment you had entered his car. But you let him drive to his apartment in tense silent while you clenched your jaw the whole time.

“Does it even matter?” you let out an exhasperated noise.

“If you don't tell me, I'm leaving.”

He looked up at you this time, eyes as dark as ever but still holding a faint sprinkle of regret and fear and silently asking you not to go. He sighed and dropped his stare one more time, but he didn't speak up.

“Was it about you?” you tried again, voice lower and less menacing. “Your money? Your background?”

You saw his eyebrows creasing as he shook his head. “He asked me where you were and why would I leave you alone in a place like that, where you would...”

Your face disorted in confusion this time. “Where I would what?”

“Where you would let anyone fuck you with no hesitation over a trashcan like me.. or something like that, I don't really remember his exact words.”

“He said that?” you swallowed hard, not really knowing what to say. “Yoongi, you're not-, you're not what he said. He was drunk and-”

“What?” he interrupted you by looking up in disbelief. “You think I punched him because he thinks so low of me? No, I-” he grunted and mumbled something under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face. “ _____, I don't care about what Minho says about me. Fuck, I could care less.” he licked his lips, avoiding your eyes. “He shouldn't talk shit about you just because he's mad you're with someone else, even if this relationship is not...” he stopped mid sentence to take a deep breath. “...real. Hell, it was mysogonistic as fuck.”

“He should-” your expression had softened as he kept rambling and you let your arms fall to your sides.”-at least respect you, you know? You two had a relationship and he's going around saying things like that just so his fuckboys can have a good laugh. You and any other woman, shit.” you had started taking steps towards him without him noticing until you were crouching in front of him.

”Does he have a mother? Or a sist- Hell, even if he didn't, he should just-Fuck, I don't know. It also didn’t help the fact that my job has been hell lately, I’ve barely been able to get enough sleep and I can't seem to find the fucking USB drive with all of my music in it, so his douchness was just the icing on the cake after a shitty week.”

He sighed and leaned back on the toilet seat, with his head still hanging low. Guilt took over you and closed off your throat, not able to say a word at the mention of his lost pen drive.You could only raise a shaky hand and push the blonde strands of hair out of his eyes, stroking the side of his face and he melted into you, looking for the warmth of your touch.

“I've been hearing people say all sorts of things about you for years and, although I never agreed with them, I never really cared about it. But now...” with his eyes closed, he placed his own hand on top of yours before taking it and brushing your knuckles with his lips. “I would fuck anyone up if I ever heard them saying a single bad thing about you.”

You looked at each other in silence while you wondered if he had any idea how much his words had affected you in that moment.. You wondered if he was able to hear the pounding inside of your chest or if he was able to notice the slight watering in your eyes that you quickly blinked away. 

You wondered if he had truly meant it and, if he really did, you also wondered if he was just being overprotective of you like he was of anyone that was stepped on, because that was Yoongi's nature: defending the innocent, the underdogs, the misunderstood, even if you were far from fitting into any of those categories.

You wished he would want to protect you because he truly cared about you, not because he pitied you for being the talk of the town. But most of it all, you prayed he didn't mean it at all. You hoped his words weren't as deep as they seemed and you sure as hell hope they didn't mean to him what they meant to you.

And to push the thoughts away as you always did when it came to Yoongi, you were leaning up and kissing him and he was kissing you back as he always did when it came to you. Him, craddling your face with both hands and you, tightening your grip on his white t-shirt, trying to pull him as close as space would allow.

You always thought the best way to try to get your mind off of Yoongi and your feelings towards him was by feeling him, kissing him, touching him. Everytime you did, you knew too well how stupid and masochist that way of distraction was.

Maybe you just needed to prove to yourself you had it all under control. Maybe you weren't even trying to prove to yourself your feelings towards him weren't under control at all. Maybe you were just trying to drag it all as much as you could because you knew it would eventually come to an end. Maybe you just didn't want to think about the end because you weren't ready for it.

Whatever.

But you kept doing it, because you couldn't seem to get enough of him and you found yourself loving even the guilty and painful aspect of needing him. And now you were left wondering if you would ever get over how much you loved the way his lips felt against yours, how they seemed to fit perfectly with yours and how they seemed to have learned to dance a beautiful choreography you had been practicing for months.

Now you were left wondering when was the exact moment loving Yoongi meant more than loving the way he kissed you and touched you.

You felt him trying to hide a yelp under you and you pulled away, studying his lower lip worriedly. “Oh, I'm sorry, I-”

“No, no. Don't stop.”

And then he was the one kissing you eagerly with his eyes closed this time, bringing himself to the edge of the toilet seat to get closer to you. His tongue ran across your lips, asking for permission you had already granted. You pulled away before he could kiss you properly, standing up and ignoring his complaints.

“I just told you not to stop, what are you doing?” he whined, looking up at you and gripping your hips with his hands as you bit your lip.

You didn't say anything, instead, took the waistband of your skirt between your fingers and slid it down your legs while keeping eye contact with him. You watched with delight as he followed the movement of the fabric and the new shown skin it revealed until it finally hit the floor and pooled around your ankles. He took a sharp breath, his hands now carressing your hipbones as he stared at the lacy white fabric adorning them.

“That's my favourite color.”

Your smile instensified when he met your eyes again, his lips lightly parted. “I know.”

In a matter of seconds he was on his feet, kissing you hungrily again. He pulled his shirt off, and immediately went back to attack your mouth while his hands roamed your curves, finally settling on the back of your thighs. Lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, he made his way towards his bedroom while your mind kept circling around the idea that that night was very likely to be last time you would get to sleep between Yoongi's sheets.

That night his kisses weren't as rough. His touch wasn't as rough. His lips left loving wet stains all over your skin. He kissed his way up and down slowly, too slowly, too gentle. Making you whine and beg. His fingertips ghosted over your flesh, as if he was scared to wound you, unlike all of the other times he had touched you. He pounded into you smoothly but deeply at a moderate speed while he buried his face into your neck.

Quite the opposite of your actions. 

You dug your fingernails into his back, bit his shoulder, scraped his scalp and pulled at his hair, all the while moaning and pleading for him to give you more, to not have mercy, to fuck you senseless. He shut you up by kissing you softly, by nipping at your lips and tangling his tongue with yours. His thrusts became harder but he still eased himself in and out of you tenderly.

And as your climax approached, he looked into your eyes.

You tried to avoid his gaze, tried to close your eyes, but he gripped your chin, the firmness of his hold on your face nothing compared to the way he was moving his hips against you. And you couldn't do anything but stare at him as he stared back, his dark orbs flooding you while his movements sped up in such an intense way that had you secure your legs around his hips in an attempt to never let go of him. Soon you felt an annoyingly sting behind your eyelids. The beginning of a cry tearing from your chest made you close your eyes tightly, pushing back away the tears of pain and pleasure and emotions happening in your chest.

Then he reached his own peak, letting go of your chin and stilling inside of you after a frew sloppy thrusts. He fell limply on top of you, your arms around his back and his arms around your waist.

Refusin to open your eyes, you felt his small kisses on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts until he laid down next to you, out of breath. It didn't take him long to fall asleep and unwrap his arms from you. It did take you long to pull yourself up, gather your clothes and leave him behind.

Not before placing the pen drive in the exact same place you had taken it from a week ago.

And then you disappeared.

You took a cab home in the middle of the night, with tears in your eyes and already missing his scent and the way his hair fell over his pillow and the gummy smile he hardly ever showed. You left, missing the way his fingers grazed over yours, the way he held your hips, the way he kissed your lips and the way he would mumble in your ear.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, honey.” you smiled at your dad's voice through the phone.

You spent days in your bed, avoiding his calls. Avoiding opening up your door, avoiding the places he frequented. You spent days holding back your tears and trying to distract yourself. But nothing seemed to be as enjoyable anymore.

“Did you finally get a hold on Phil?”

“Yes. It took me a while, though.” you heard him sighing through the line. “You know how busy music producers are.”

You gulped, twirling around a strand of hair nervously. “Did you sent him the tape I sent you?”

Watching movies wasn't the same when you couldn't prop your feet on Yoongi's lap. Listening to music wasn't the same when it wasn't Yoongi's voice in the stereo. Driving your car wasn't the same when Yoongi wasn't in the passanger seat, changing music stations on the car radio.

“Yes, I did.”

Having Wendy by your side was definitely helping, specially now that you learned to hate the superficial jerks who used to form your group of friends thanks to Yoongi. Her comfort and her presence had always made things better for you.

“Well? What did he think?”

A couple of months ago, if someone had told you you would ask scandalous bad boy Min Yoongi to pretent to be your boyfriend, you would have laughed and rolled your eyes. A couple of months ago, if someone had told you would start to enjoy having Min Yoongi in your life, you would have laughed and rolled your eyes. A couple of months ago, if someone had told you you would end up falling in love with Min Yoongi, you would have laughed and rolled your eyes.

“He loved it.”

But the emptyness and sadness were real, and not seeing, touching or having Min Yoongi was the cause of it.